Star Wars— and why I write stories of hope

I wrote this post a year ago in May 2025, but I thought I’d bring it back for Star Wars Day 2026!

For the past several months, I have been quietly doubting my writing journey, considering whether or not I wanted to continue pursuing this in my life.

Why– when the arts and humanities are constantly devalued and defunded, when the cost-of-living is soaring and access to healthcare is not guaranteed– WHY in the world would I keep writing?

Why? Because it’s not all about me. Because I have a message to share, especially with young readers.

I believe we all have a message to share with the world– but I also know that many choose to turn away from it.

Too many succumb to the insanity and chaos and noise that drowns out what our inner voices are desperately trying to whisper to us and through us.

I understand why, too… and it’s heart-breaking. 

But I didn’t grow up on stories like Star Wars to just give up. Maybe it’s my autism– maybe I took messages of hope and courage and perseverance too literally?

Of course Star Wars is a fictional example– but there are too many true stories in our history that tell me I am far from alone. Or, in the words of John Lennon, “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.”

I recently referred to John Lennon in conversation with someone who responded, “The world said it didn’t want that.”

Yes, I suppose it did. I get it. There’s talk of eugenics regarding folks with brains like mine right now. Much of the world is telling us they don’t want us either. 

But I can’t give up. Is that the kind of world I want to leave to my children without a fight?

And so I choose to continue writing stories of hope. Not to bypass or dismiss our feelings of sorrow, grief, despair, or hurt.. no, I write of hope because of these– because in our darkest times, hope is what keeps us going.

I’m reminded of what Kurt Vonnegut once said, “Well, I've worried some about, you know, why write books… why are we teaching people to write books when presidents and senators do not read them, and generals do not read them… you catch people before they become generals and presidents and so forth and you poison their minds with... humanity, and however you want to poison their minds, it's presumably to encourage them to make a better world.”

Maybe my mind has been poisoned with humanity?

Good.

Okay, back to Star Wars–

As I’ve been watching the second season of Andor (and absolutely loving it), I am constantly reminded of how Cassian Andor’s story “ends” in Rogue One.

(I knew how it would end when I went to see the movie back in 2016 and it still got me.)

But really, Cassian and Jyn’s stories didn’t “end” there. No, of course they didn't. If you haven’t seen Rogue One, or aren’t familiar with Star Wars, sorry for the spoiler: these characters give their lives to send the Death Star plans to Princess Leia, which of course leads to its destruction by Luke Skywalker and the Rebel Alliance.

The final scene of Rogue One depicts an officer handing Leia the plans and asking, “What is it they’ve sent us?” to which she simply responds, “Hope.”

No, Cassian Andor’s story didn’t end there.

Why write of hope again? Because stories of hope keep us going. Storytelling is as old as humanity is. Archaeology shows that humans were creating art before they developed agriculture. Stories and the arts have always given us hope to keep going, even when it seems all is lost. 

I know what it’s like to feel like all is lost. But if you’d permit me one more Star Wars reference– I have something I want to remind you:

In Episode IX, near the end of the Battle of Exegol, Poe Dameron tells the other Resistance fighters, “My friends... I'm sorry. I thought we had a shot. But there's just too many of them.” All of a sudden, a familiar voice cuts in, and Lando Calrissian says, “But there are more of us, Poe. There are more of us.”

YESSS!

Y’all, I often feel so very isolated and alone— in this world of billions, too many of us do. But it is in these lonely times when I turn first to stories to remind myself that I am not alone. You are not alone, either. None of us are alone– and I write of hope to help us all remember that, and to come back together again.

I hope that somehow I am able to share my message through the stories I write.

Yours truly,

Katie